


giving me such sweet nothing

by siempreniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hook-Up, Kinda, M/M, Tour Fic, commitment issues, mentions of past relationships that i will not tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siempreniall/pseuds/siempreniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that they can't commit, it's that Niall won't let them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	giving me such sweet nothing

It’s not that Niall can’t commit, it’s that there’s nothing to commit to. He’s entered into every relationship in the past four years knowing that things can’t last like others think they can. Some of the boys have had (or still _have_ ) their fair share of long-term flings, but it’s just not possible for Niall. He needs something tangible, something to focus on, something to keep him still. But he’s always gone, always passing through, always hard to keep up with. So it’s easier to not care and not commit. Usually.

**

Niall can see it on Harry’s face before he struts over—a slight quirk to his smile and a tipsy twinkle in his eye. He puts his glass down on a random ledge next to him and prepares himself for whatever idea Harry’s got.

Harry comes over quick smelling like rum and the cologne Kendall gave him. He rests a hand on Niall’s stomach to balance himself and leans in close enough to Niall’s ear that his lips skirt against it.

“Come to the roof with me,” he whispers loud enough to be heard over the blaring music that’s been set on for them. He leans back for just a second, long enough to gauge the reaction on Niall’s face, then heads for a door at the side of the room.

Some people catch Niall’s eye as he follows a few paces behind Harry, but they don’t seem to notice what he’s doing. Everyone is mostly busy with their own vices for the night. Niall follows his up the stairs.

It’s a few floors up to the top and Niall can see Harry going faster as he’s forced to slow down. His knee twinges and by the time he pushes through the heavy roof door Harry is standing with his hands behind his back and looking out at the city skyline.

“It’s chillier than I expected,” Niall says quietly, and at the sound of his voice Harry turns to look at him. His hair blows through gusts of his wind and the glint of the green in his eyes can only barely be seen in the dark as he turns to face Niall, cups his face, and leans down to kiss him.

Harry’s always been a touchy drunk. But somewhere along the way hugs turned into arse pinches turned into cuddles into snogging on rooftops. And somewhere along the way Niall started looking forward to it.

He reaches his arms down and wraps them around Harry’s back so he can feel out the muscles and how they relax when Harry lets go and licks into Niall’s mouth. And this is a good part, Niall’s favorite part. He likes to melt into Harry and get a taste of all the things that drive girls crazy—his soft lips, his big hands, the way he surrounds all of you and makes you crazy with the whole of him. He likes the easy parts.

What he dislikes is where he leads himself, how he’ll _want_ more than what he already has. How his hips will search out some friction, how his hands will grip onto Harry’s arms for _more_ , how his mind will wander. Wander to the condom in Harry’s pocket, the hotel key stuck in his wallet, the bed big enough to hold the both of them, the walls thick enough to keep their secrets. How easy it would be for Niall to let it get out of hand, and for Harry to walk out in the morning. That’s the hard part.

Niall breaks away when Harry drags a hand down his side and all Niall can think of is Harry reaching under his shirt and taking it off. He has to pull his face off to the side to get the idea across to Harry. Harry’s always enthusiastic but he doesn’t push, he listens, he’s nice.

“We should probably get back to the party,” Niall says quietly, as if they’re not alone.

Harry just stares at him—not judging, not mad, just stares.

“They’ll notice we’re gone soon and come looking,” Niall continues and Harry nods, pulls away until finally his hand drops from Niall’s hip. He wipes it off on his jeans and moves towards the door.

The walk down the stairs feels oddly longer than it had going up. Niall follows Harry down, a few steps behind and looking straightforward the entire time. Harry’s hunched over with his shoulders looking outrageously good stretching out his shirt. Niall hadn’t even noticed; it was dark.

They stop at the bottom, the floor still full of the sounds of music and chattering and general fun. It’s only a door away, down a short hall.

“I think I’m just gonna go back to my room,” Harry says, and that’s a good idea, really. Because they’re both a bit smashed and it’s getting late and they have real responsibilities. Harry stares Niall down and waits for a response, waits for Niall to say the right thing.

“Right, that sounds good. I’ll probably just go back to the party to say bye to everyone and then head back myself, yeah?”

Harry nods and Niall ignores the flicker of something on his face.

“Yeah, ‘course. See ya tomorrow, bro,”

Niall waves him off and watches Harry walk towards the lifts, pent-up energy still left in his hands.

**

It’s not that Harry can’t commit, it’s that it’s never even been an option. He has so much love to give, so many beautiful people to explore, that narrowing himself down to one person for too long just isn’t in the cards. Niall’s seen Harry in love first-hand, and there are always tokens of it around, like the gold watch Taylor got him for Christmas and the ring from Paige he’s never quite been able to take off. They’re constant reminders of the adventures he’s had and the decisions he’s made. They’re not always the best decisions, and Harry would be the first to tell you that, but he almost never regrets them. He regrets throwing up on the side of the LA freeway, and consequently getting papped in the process, but that’s about it.

He doesn’t get cold feet or always have someone on the back burner, like the tabloids seem to think he does, but he just seems to have an instinct on when the relationship is up. It doesn’t always mesh with the other person’s idea, and sometimes outside circumstances get the breakup rolling early, but Harry’s never one to linger too long on a relationship past its prime. He knows when he’s having fun, and he’s not gonna stick around when he’s _not_. And he supposes that it’s part of why he can keep good relationships with his exes (besides his kindred spirit and the giant green eyes that you can’t say no to). They usually never get far enough into their groove that real feelings start so they can leave without too many tears. Harry’s got it down to a system, and Niall’s not one to disrupt.

**

They started this, this _thing_ drunk, of course. Back a few months ago during a rare night on a tour bus. The hotel was crowded and the walls of the rooms were too boring, so they all found themselves on the buses, crammed together like the old days. Games of Fifa and bottles of bear stacked up as the hours passed. Until, finally, Niall and Harry were the last ones on the bus, the other three wandering off to get into the general trouble they always found themselves in. They were left together, alone, finding their own trouble in  

Together they sat on the sofa, giggling over what was probably complete rubbish, with a cup of warm beer they were sharing together. And in what seemed so natural, so fluid at the time, Harry climbed into Niall’s lap to pin him down and make him concentrate on the story he was trying to share. Some shit little thing about a trip into the canyon with Jeff and Glenn, a story that was taking about 500 words too long for what little substance it contained.

Harry brought his finger up to Niall’s lip, shushing him as Niall tried his best to throw him off. Niall could feel the cold drag of the gold against his lip as Harry leaned forward to rest his head on the soft curve of Niall’s shoulder, breath hot and comforting against the goosebumps on Niall’s neck.

“You know,” Niall said quickly, after Harry’d stopped giggling and stopped trying to tell his shit story, “Just because you’re on a raw diet doesn’t mean you’re magically small,”

He shifted, trying to redistribute Harry’s weight against him, and for his trouble Harry dug his fingers in the curve of his hips.

“You’re a piece of shit, Harry,” Niall whispered, but the way he smiled betrayed him.

They sat in silence, then, together in a heap of sweaty boy. The bus still smelled faintly of weed, and Niall could still faintly feel its effects making his head swim. It was warm, the result of a broken AC and too much body contact, and Harry’s cinnamon candle was still burning off to the side. Niall almost feared that Harry’d fallen asleep on him before he felt the first press of a kiss into his neck.

He didn’t say anything, just let the scene play out as it did. Harry was slow and languid, as always, making his way up to Niall’s ear where he decided to bite down playfully. Niall’s hands flew up to Harry’s waist, and he can hear a small breathy giggle next to his ear.

If it was a joke it was a bad one. Harry’s known for them.

Niall sucked in a shaky breath, “You know, if you’re gonna keep kissing me you gotta do it right,”

Harry fell back, sitting as far back as he could on the small couch, and looked Niall in the eyes for just a moment. He leaned forward, hands gripped onto Niall’s shoulders, and kissed him for just a second. A peck of something Niall wanted.

“Is that right?” Harry said, and before Niall could even answer he kissed him again.

Time got lost, somewhere around when Harry gripped the back of Niall’s head and Niall folded his hands against the firm plain of Harry’s chest. Niall wondered how long it had been since he found out that Harry likes to take breaks in the middle of snogging to breathe and laugh, that he makes sweet little pleased whines of affirmation, that he knew just how to break Niall down. It felt like forever.

There was always something hanging at the back of Niall’s mind: a little what-if. What if I reach my hands down to the bottom of Harry’s shirt, using little touches to get across that I want to lift it over his head? What if he says yes, says the same thing to me, and we’re sitting here together with one less barrier between us? What if I give in and start searching out friction, what if he does it, too? What if we meet in the middle, looking for the same thing, yet too afraid to take it on? What if I don’t know when to stop?

He pulled away, just for Harry to follow for a second. Harry stopped when Niall didn’t kiss him back, sitting onto his calves to look at Niall.

Together they must have been a fucking sight to see, and Niall didn’t even know if they had locked the door. Anyone could have caught them like this: Harry all wide-eyed with hair messed up and eyes blown wide, Niall all pink-cheeked and breathing so heavily he barely wanted to speak. But he had to, mostly because Harry expected him to.

“Shit,” was the first thing that popped into his mind.

It could’ve gone badly, he supposed, but Harry just smiled the big dopey grin that Niall’d only seen a few times.

“We should probably sleep, yeah?” Niall continued, after Harry’d only managed to breathe out a few more sighs.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Harry said back, climbing gingerly off his lap. It felt good to get movement back into his legs, a slight tingle to the one where the angle of his knee had gone a bit wonky. But it felt weird to not have the heavy, solid weight of Harry helplessly splayed across them.

Niall stood up, too, ignoring the way that Harry adjusted the band of his jeans, hoping that Harry’d do the same for him. He reached around to the back of his neck, wiped away the phantom touch there, then turned to face Harry.

“I’m probably going to stay on the bus,” he said, an expectant look on his face, “I don’t feel like moving much, and my candle’s here and everything,”

Niall snorted, “Yeah, can’t leave the candle behind,”

Harry smiled at him and waited for an answer to a question he wasn’t asking.

“I think I’m probably going back to my room, then. It’s much better for my knee to have a space to spread out,”

Harry nodded and bumped his fist into Niall’s, a sweet kind of memory still lingering in the tips of his fingers. He watched him out the door, locking it after Niall had started back towards the hotel.

Niall could feel empty stares watching him as he strolled through the parking lot, not a single camera or phone in sight. He entered the lobby, empty and quiet with a midnight lull, and took the elevator by himself. His room was still where he left it, slightly cluttered with a post-concert upheaval of his suitcase. He brushed his teeth, turned down the AC, got himself into bed without so much as pants on, and laid his head against the pillow. A singular feeling was still stuck into his mind: a cold glint of metal pressed into his skin, the _P_ still faintly leaving marks there, even if only in his mind.

**

Niall’s got his fingers stuck in his mouth when Harry comes to see him. There’s a particular bit of skin at his nail that’s been working him up all day, and he’s almost got it when the door slams open and Harry’s standing there. He looks all sweaty, like he just got changed after a sparring session with Mark.

“There you are, you’ve been hiding,” he says, a little too quick but not out of breath.

“I’m in the dressing room, I’m not hiding,” Niall states. It’s true. It’s just nice in here, cool and comfortable, if a little plain.

Harry moves in front of the mirror. He checks himself out and fixes up his hair, “I would’ve thought you’d be in the gym or out to lunch with Louis like normal,”

“No, I just need a moment,”

Harry turns quickly on his heel, “Am I bothering you?”

“What? No!” Niall says quickly, then after a moment, “Did you have something to say? You were looking for me,”

“Right, Cal wants to go out for sushi after the concert. I know you don’t like eating before we go on stage so I thought you’d want to join,”

He thinks it over, as if there’s much to think about. Harry continues staring at him, a little slack-jawed and very still.

“Yeah, sure. You gonna pick the place?”

Harry smiles and turns back to his reflection, “’Course, you can’t pick sushi places for shit. You once tried to drag me to a place whose house specialty was California rolls. _Specialty_ , Niall, that’s ludicrous,”

Niall laughs and leans back, tucking his hand into the pocket of his sweater so that he won’t chew it at anymore.

“So around 11:30, yeah? I think there’s a few late night places around. Grab some sashimi, a bit of sake, make ourselves a night out of it?”

“And Cal’s coming, too?”

Harry looks at him again, “Yeah,”

“Okay, that’s a plan,” Niall says.

“Alright. Soundcheck’s in twenty so don’t stray too far into your mind,” Harry says as he heads towards the door. He seems to wait for a response, hand held over the handle, but Niall’s run out of things to say.

**

It’s not that Niall can’t imagine being in a relationship with Harry. It’s that he can’t imagine himself as just another expensive token left to linger on Harry’s body when he’s gone.

**

They don’t say anything as the lift takes them up through the floors of the hotel. Niall glances over at Harry’s face to see if he can read him, but just beyond the back of Harry’s head is his own face. He looks like he doesn’t even want it, and nothing could be further from the truth.

Harry follows him out the sliding doors, long and lanky and always on Niall’s heels. At the door to his room Niall has to stop and search out his key, even harder with Harry pressed up behind him. He smells like the gum he’d popped in his mouth to mask the fish, and with the press of a hand against Niall’s back he pushes them both into the room. Niall can feel the press of Harry’s watch against him even after it’s gone.

It’s not quite a mess because Niall had taken the time earlier, just before the show, to make sure everything was in order. He turns on the light on the nightstand, sits down on the bed, and takes just a second to flip through his phone before he plugs it in for the night. Harry knows he’s waiting, because it always plays out like this. Niall won’t make the first move; it’s just how he is.

Behind him, Niall can feel the bed dip. Seconds later he can feel Harry’s nose against his ear, hot puffs of breath making his spine shiver.

“Put it down,” Harry says, and Niall listens.

“That’s better,”

He rubs his hands down Niall’s chest from behind, over the nice clean linen shirt that he had chosen for dinner that night. Harry’s fingers drum a little tune into his chest and Niall leans back into an embrace he’s been waiting for.

They rearrange themselves on the bed so that Niall’s lying back on the pillows and Harry has room to hold himself over Niall. It’s better this way, Niall thinks. Better than standing on rooftops and hiding in loos. Now there’s not much to agonize about; it’s better.

Harry kisses him easily, licking into his mouth without worrying about how to get there. Niall opens up so easily for him, giving back whatever he’ll get. He can anticipate what Harry does next by now, whether it’s thumbing over his cheek or leaning back to press a kiss to the bridge of Niall’s nose when he needs a breath. So Niall can guess Harry’s next move when he leans down to kiss at the side of his neck.

It was hard not to see them the few times Niall met Nadine in person. There was always a meticulously-placed scarf or a convenient turtleneck covering up some sort of secret. But Niall could always tell. Her scarf would move and betray a patch of red, or she’d thumb over the sore spot without even thinking. Always in the same place. Harry had his own token.

“Not there,” Niall gasps when Harry starts to bite softly. He looks up with those big green eyes on him and Niall wonders how anyone ever tells him no. How he ever does it, “Lou’ll have my head. Somewhere I can cover, yeah?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, but he listens. He pushes aside Niall’s shirt where it’s already open and kisses him there. _That’s better_ Niall thinks, but he shows his affirmation by running his fingers through Harry’s long curls and groaning low in his throat.

This is the hard part.

Niall reaches a hand up and braces himself against the headboard for what he’s not willing to give himself. It’s too early for this; too early to already imagine Harry easing open his flies and getting his cock out. Sucking him in, lips shiny and eager around him. Afterwards maybe laying him back, opening him up quickly, hoisting his legs over Harry’s shoulders and getting fucked.

This is what Niall won’t think about: everything he wants, how _badly_ he wants it, without letting himself have even a little taste.

So he’ll let Harry kiss him, linger on to the few moments he allows, and stop him when its gets too far. When Harry grinds his dick hot and heavy into his hip, Niall won’t give it back. When Harry starts to cover Niall with his body, a comfortable and steadfast warmth spread across every inch of his skin, Niall will sink further back into the mattress until he’s enveloped on all sides. When Harry starts to breathe faster with wanting something more, Niall will pull away and apologize with a smile.

Harry makes the first move; Niall will make the last.


End file.
